We were yelling, “New Year, what brings us?”, around the first night of the year, at the preemies who crossed the road. Waiting for the foals, drunks, us. And as there was no runner or selfie yet, we would find most of the Russians who had gone out to put down the excesses of the dinner the night before, a crew of ready to renew the ritual of their eternal return through the New Year's Mountain, or, used to the daily routine of the coins on the way back and forth to the closed store, a few ruthless retirees.

At that time, the Primula vulgaris (sanjosé or spring flowers) were addivines of the primula. In mid-March, we saw the drapes of the trail covered, and as Garbiñe Larrea says in that beautiful book, “in the dark winter we were adorned and we were happy with the corners.”

The party begins, perhaps, when the little yellow flower appears in front of its boots. Before I see the first one, I am invaded by a kind of joy and I transform the date of my bliss on a designated day. I point to the day, making the photo, clicking, announcing to everyone else that I have seen the Sanjosé flower, going up the nets, post. Also in Orakunde’s request of the Carnival season, if you see the spring flowers, “we have seen them and they have started to be created on the road of the farmhouse and what a pity you were not there and look: I have brought you one”, my daughter will come to me right away. Larrea's story is that those of yesteryear were sating and eating a grain of flowers to gain the life force of the new season.

I will also confess to you that I tend to match the year with floral creations; now, the sanjoses, then, one after the other, the lilies, the cuckoo pants, the marabiris, the orchids, the azafranes, and, on this side, the blossoming. And coming back to the year, again you bleed, the lilas, again ...

To this roundness of the times of nature, however, we have hardened its borders by the spread of pollution and the absorption of absorption. Two years ago, the first ones we saw for New Year’s Day and I thought with concern “Ño, this is a Rare Year.” The sand, which last year should have been the premium, has grown and have been created for the Saints on our shores, in full skin. So, seeing that such a nice thing can immediately announce his apocalypse, it scared me. Even the awakening of premature spring flowers has taken place in the same days of the cloudy waters and baskets of Valencia, of the plastic boats, of the fuel stains and of the badged corpses.

I've also pointed out the day, I've made the photo, I've clicked, I've announced in the surroundings, I've uploaded it to the networks, post, with concern, but what are we going to explain now to our children? Was there a flower called spring? Maybe. Was it a time of year called spring? Beware!

What did we learn to remember about the transience of names at the end of the 20th century? How could the handsome Atlas of the house smile as soon as he realized? Let us teach that, before all books and school stories are extinct, there is care, also in nature. That the environment is present in rights and justice and in tangible things. Everyone we eat with the sweat of the earth. Explain that ecocopías are feasible and that all trees and flowers have their name. So that after the winter there are lilies in primicia; primaries and lilies.